Thursday, August 2, 2007

Burning Joints & A Cutting Comeuppance

For the record, I am an RBI machine; I drive in runs like they’re carpooling; I bring ‘em home like they’re your 18-year-old daughter and I’m four hours past curfew; I plate ‘em like I’m cooking for the Royal Family...

YES it’s co-ed, beer-league, pitch-to-your-own-team softball, and YES I take advantage of the fact that I’m cheetah-being-chased-by-a-Ferrari fast and most co-ed, beer-league outfield arms are suspect, at best...but did YOU drive in 8 runs tonight?

So, this award, this beautiful monstrosity of three separate trophies glued together as one completely fabulous Über-Trophy, well, we each carve our names into the base when we win it; I was doing so tonight, adding a coquettish "X2" next to my name, when I plunged my exacto-knife into the top of my left thumb so thoroughly that I could’ve used said digit as a letter-holder.

To anyone who has tried to open up an individually-wrapped bandage with one-hand, let me just say that my empathy is boundless; I looked like a one-legged raccoon trying to get into a child-proof bottle of Tylenol. Plus, I got a little freaked-out using my mouth to tear into the bandage-wrapper, as I had put my bleeding thumb in said maw first, and then spread diluted-blood onto the disinfectant-white of said wrapper, leaving me believing, somehow, that I had cut into a thumb-artery that connected to my intestinal-wall, causing me to, again somehow, cough up blood from shock and effort alone...

This is a cautionary-tale for hypochondriacs and right-thinking braggarts alike: if you carry a little too much cock-a-doodle-doo in your swagger, you WILL cut your thumb open.
That’s just the way it works.A Spectacular Spank